Trouble on Tap (13 page)

The animal in question was in some sort of blissful nirvana state sitting hip-to-hip next to Olivia. His eyes were closed and his nose was going a mile a minute.

“But it’s Ruby Sue’s pie.” He could practically taste the sugary sweetness on his tongue. “You can’t waste that on the dog.”

Olivia flipped her hair over one nearly bare shoulder dusted with freckles. “So invite me in.”

Now that way lay trouble. “What are you, a vampire that needs an invitation?”

“Worse. I’m a Sweet.” She gave him an exaggerated wink. “But a big tough guy like you couldn’t be afraid of having little ol’ me in your house, could you?”

Want slammed through him with the power of a fifty-caliber rifle. Every taunt that came out of her beyond- kissable pink mouth was a promise that couldn’t be fulfilled, but damn if it wasn’t the only thing he could think about.

Olivia couldn’t believe she’d actually made it through the front door without busting into frustrated tears or going on a rant about what had just gone down at The Kitchen Sink. Finally today, something was going according to plan. Now if she could just work this right, she’d actually get Mateo to help with the fundraiser that the mayor was trying so damn hard to ruin.

And if she could manage to keep her attention on her goal instead of Mateo’s cute butt, she might actually get what she needed.

She followed Mateo into his gourmet kitchen that would have looked right at home in
Architectural Digest
. Large windows spanned both walls, giving anyone inside a front-row seat to the natural beauty of Burnett’s Hill. In contrast with the warm woods and greenery outside, everything inside was cold and modern—stainless-steel appliances, black granite countertops and dark, nearly black cherry-wood cabinets filled the large space. Strong, intimidating and immense, just like the man who stood on one side of the large kitchen island eyeing her warily.

He should be wary. She’d brought her A game tonight. After what had gone down with the mayor, she didn’t have a choice. The fundraiser had to be a success.

Setting the sixty-four-ounce growler filled with the brewery’s latest craft brew and the pie on the island, Olivia walked to the cabinets beside the refrigerator. “Where are your glasses?”

“Why?”

She opened one cabinet—plates—and then another. Jackpot. “For the beer.” She grabbed two tall glasses, spun on her heel and strolled back to the island, where she unscrewed the growler top and poured.

“I don’t like beer.” His gaze was zeroed in on the glass of Sweet Salvation Brewery’s latest amber ale as he leaned against the counter, arms folded over his bare chest.

Up until now, she’d done a pretty good job of keeping her focus on Mateo’s face, which was distracting enough, and not the miles of sinewy muscle crisscrossing his torso. But once her line of vision dipped down, there was no coming back up. It was like drowning in hotness.

Tattoos of four military helmets formed a band around one thick biceps, one of several tattoos that decorated his broad chest so thick with muscle he could give the male fitness models she knew a run for their money. The elastic waistband of his shorts hung low on his waist, giving her a full view of his six-pack abs. If only he’d tug them down just a little bit lower, she could see almost all of the muscles forming a V at his hips—or at least that’s what she imagined. If she actually saw them, she’d probably pass out. Hell, she was feeling a little woozy as it was.

Pull it together, Olive Breath. You’ve seen plenty of men totally naked
.

Problem was, none of them made her stomach flutter like Mateo.

Focus
!

Sucking in a deep breath, she tore her gaze away from him and to the recycling bin next to her at the end of the island.

“You don’t like beer?” She nudged his open-top bin with her toe and the telltale rattle of glass bottles sounded. “Really?”

He cleared his throat. “I make exceptions every once in a while.”

She held out a glass to him. “So make one now.”

Their fingers grazed as he took the glass from her and electricity shot up her arm and gave everything from the neck down the fizzy, unsettled feeling of an itch that needed to be scratched. She wasn’t sure when but sometime between walking in the front door and pouring the beer, she’d lost control of the situation and she needed to get it back.

He took a long, slow sip of beer, the whole time watching her over the top of his glass with the steady glare of a born skeptic. “What is it you’re after?”

When she’d pulled up in her car? His help. Now? Getting a peek—and more—at what was underneath his basketball shorts.

“A few minutes of relaxation to sip good beer.” She dipped one finger into the foam at the top of her beer, gathered just enough of it then sucked it off the tip.

His heated gaze went straight to her mouth and his jaw tightened. For someone so intent on denying the attraction, it was definitely there—no doubt about it. The air thickened around them and desire pooled in her belly. With deliberate slowness, she licked the last drops off the center of her bottom lip.

He set his glass down on the counter with a clank that echoed in the quiet kitchen.

A few years ago they’d be fucking by now—against the refrigerator, bent over the island, flat on the floor with her riding him hard and fast. Denial had never been their thing. Now it felt as though it was all they had in common anymore.

“And then a few more to drown my shitty day in Ruby Sue’s pecan pie.” She leaned forward to grab one of the forks he’d placed on the oversized island. Inhaling a deep breath, she sank a fork into the pie, lifted the bite and held it out to him. “Want some?”

He gulped, lust as plain on his face as the scars he used as an excuse to keep people at a distance—but he didn’t move to take the bite she’d offered. “You’re not playing fair.”

The accusation, true as it may be, delivered in his rough bass sent a shiver down her spine. “Who said I was playing?” Shrugging, she turned the fork and ate the bite of pie herself.

Fuck. It really was good. Not exactly what she was hungry for right now, but it was beginning to look like a sugar rush was the only kind of satisfaction she was going to get.
What a shame.

“Why don’t you just spit out what it is you’re after and save us the charade,” he demanded. “We both know I’m not anyone’s idea of good company.”

“And whose fault is that?” She tossed the fork down and it skittered across the island. “As someone who has spent her life being shunned by the people of Salvation, let me tell you that being a hated outcast isn’t as fun you seem to think. Get rid of that giant chip on your shoulder and you might realize that.”

Something dark flashed across his face and her breath stalled in her lungs. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, he smirked and gave her the slow up and down. It was the kind of look he’d given her a million times after spotting her at a hotel bar or in elevator when she was coming to meet him. Dangerous. All-knowing. Totally trouble. Without giving her time to reorient herself to the new order of things, he stalked around the island, stopping beside her.

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. She was lost to the heat and the need and the hunger sweeping through her.

“If I’m hiding some heart of gold under this beastly exterior, then what are you hiding, Olivia?” He traced his fingertip down the length of her neck, following the erratic beat of her jugular vein.

His touch was too hot, too good, too much. She thought she’d known the rules of this game, but she was wrong.

Mentally reeling, she grabbed ahold of the one thing that had nothing to do with how her body was reacting to his—the truth. “I know the mayor is trying to ruin any chance we have of holding a successful fundraiser for the veterans’ center. I want to know what I have to do to get the town to see what an idiot he is.” Her heart hammered against her ribs and her thighs trembled. “I need you.”

His help. His touch. Him.

Mateo turned his head, bringing their lips close. “Then you’re in trouble.”

For a heartbeat she didn’t move, didn’t breath, didn’t think.

Then his lips touched hers, and all she could do was fall into the kiss.

Touching Olivia was like coming home whole, instead of with his head wrapped in bandages and on enough pain medications to knock a bull to its knees.

Except unlike during that hellish flight from the base in Germany, where they’d stabilized his condition enough for the return stateside, standing in his kitchen with his arms wrapped around Olivia, he knew everything wasn’t going to be all right. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to believe it would be. And that hope? It was even more dangerous than the feel of her fingers on his chest or the taste of pecan pie on her lips.

Not wanting to but knowing he didn’t have a choice, he pulled back for a breath before he lost himself and took things too far. He was supposed to scare her off with his touch—make her run away to the safety of her cabin and leave him in peace. Instead, she was electricity under his skin, unpredictable and wild.

He fisted his hands at his sides before he reached for her again. “Being this close to you and not being able to touch you was supposed to be my penance.”

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed pink and a genuine desire burning in her blue eyes. “For what?”

“Everything.” It was the simplest explanation for the wrongs he’d committed and the men who’d died as a result, but the single word cut him deep.

Cupping his face in her palms without even the slightest flinch at touching the eerily smooth scar tissue crisscrossing the left side of his head, she raised herself up to her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his forehead. “Maybe it’s time to stop punishing yourself for past sins.”

He wished it was that easy, but it wasn’t. So if he was already this deep in, what was one more transgression? Snagging the hem of her tank top between two fingers, he tugged it taut. “I suppose you think you’re the woman to show me the way?”

Leaning in close, she whispered into his good ear, “No one knows more about sinning than a Sweet.”

“That’s what you think.” He lifted the hem of her shirt, inching it higher as slowly as he could without losing what was left of his mind. “I’m going show you a thing or two tonight.”

She exhaled a shaky breath and took a step back. “Big talk.”

“You know I always keep my word.” He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.

If he could have turned away from her, he’d crossed that point. There was no going back now. His balls tightened at the sight of the high curve of her tits pushing against the yellow lace of her bra. The material gave just enough of a glimpse of her dusky pink nipples beneath to make pre-come wet the tip of his dick.

“I’m going to fuck you long and hard right here in this kitchen.” He skimmed his hands down her sides, dipping in at her waist and flaring out at her generous hips, relishing the way her breath hitched as he made the downward journey. He slipped his hand under her skirt and stopped as soon as his fingers brushed the lace of her thong. “But first I’m going to lay you across this island, spread these long legs as wide as they’ll go and feast on that pussy of yours because you’re wet for me already, aren’t you, honey?”

“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” she challenged, her breathy tone showing just how much she hoped he’d pick up the gauntlet she’d thrown.

Like there was any chance of leaving it where it lay. “Trust me. I plan to.”

He cupped her ass, lifting her up until her damp center pressed against his dick still tucked away in his basketball shorts but fighting to be free. The urge to yank them down, pull her panties to the side and drive straight and hard into her nearly squeezed the air out of his lungs. Something primitive inside him demanded release to claim her, make her his.

Her tits jiggled against his bare chest when he sat her down on the island and shoved her skirt up to her waist. “Spread your legs.”

“Yes, sir.” She winked as she stretched out her legs, but an excited flush had spread across her chest—neither of them were playing games anymore.

The center of her delicate yellow thong was several shades darker than the rest and he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her arousal as he slid his thumb across the dewy material. It was heaven and hell in one tiny patch of lace. Ever impatient, she pushed her hips higher, pressing against his thumb.

He gave her covered pussy a playful smack and then rubbed the sensitized spot. “Not yet. I want to hear you moan and beg to come all over my mouth.” He pulled the soaked material to the side, revealing her bare pussy lips, puffy and soft with want. “Some things take time.”

“Just lick me already,” she half begged, half demanded.

“I never said I’d lick you.” He ran the backs of his knuckle across her exposed wet folds. “I’m going to feast on you.” He released her thong so it covered her up, grasped the thin piece of lace crossing her hip in both hands and snapped it in two. “I’m going to make love to that delectable pussy with my mouth and my tongue and my fingers but I’m going to do it on
my
time, because when I finally sink balls-deep into you, it’s going to be hard, fast and without mercy.”